


Profane

by churchonthehill



Category: Fate/Zero
Genre: M/M, Non-Explicit, Oral Sex, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 04:43:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17801258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/churchonthehill/pseuds/churchonthehill
Summary: Kiritsugu wishes to absolve himself of the weight of his past transgressions. Kotomine Kirei obliges, duh.





	Profane

_**Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been 34 years since my last confession.** _

" Don't compare me to Christ." His words are a bark that never reaches full potential. 

" I loathe the idea." 

The confessional is an imposing structure with large supportive pillars on either side, fashioned from spiralling sparkling gold. Its body composed of a dark wood, is embleshed with gilt accents and insignia - some of biblical origin, others not. But perhaps most speculatively enticing are its arched orfici; a passage into the heart of redemption, holding hostage the truths of millions, behind heavy curtains of plum velvet. 

How profane, Kiritsugu thinks, for the church to bide it's time on such decadence. 

Outside his part in the confessional, there is a screen window with a silver crucifix hung from it, that allows the man on the other side to keep watch. To carefully scrutinize the way Kiritsugu's thin, bony, fingers, fold and unfold like a pumping heart. How, although the Priest's dark stare is transfixed on him , in all his righteous discipline, the penitent never seems to meet his eyes. Gazing straight ahead or at his feet. 

" Not quite Christ-like as you are a blackened version of him. A corrupted vision of the Messiah; that is you, Emiya Kiritsugu."

Kirei Kotomine chuckles , pressed so close to the plastic screen, that Kiritsugu can feel his hot breath against his ear. "From what I gather, you too, think yourself a martyr. A man who is willing to sacrifice his happiness and morals in order to bear the weight of the Greatest Evil."

" To relquinsh all sin onto your mortal form -"

Kiritsugu cuts him off, his tone steel. "This isn't a psychotherapy session, do not attempt to try and understand me. Shouldn't I be the one doing the talking?"

" Your origin is cutting and tying. You create sutures, though they are a temporary support. After all, stitches can only do so much. You depend on the body to heal at its own accord, providing little else for aid, other than a needle and thread." The Priest smiled.

_There were children on that plane. Mothers and fathers. Families. I killed them. That day I took one-hundred and fifty lives. I remember it, clear as day._

Even through the thick fabric of his trousers, his knees are scraped from digging into the hard floor below. Though perhaps, most uncharacteristic of him, are his eyes. Habitually dead to the world, now, they are wide like those of a frightened child's. Round and covered in a thin film of tears, they sit enveloped by the surrounding flesh of puffy red. 

His charcoal lashes are damp and spread-apart in the shape of spearheads. Clear fluid clings to them like the dew drops on leaves. And with those same eyes, he cranes his head and looks to Father Kotomine from his place on the ground. 

_If I allow my mind to wander, the guilt begins to eat away at me. If you asked me to quantify all the innocent lives I've taken, I wouldn't be able to tell you. Though, the number is well into the hundreds._

It used to burn more; but now the sensation is no longer foreign. 

These days, Kirei slides down his throat with ease. He knows now, to hide his jagged teeth behind the pleat of his upper lip, so that they do not cause harm to the sensitive tissue. His hands bound behind his back by the flimsy restraint of a rosary; Kiritsugu could break free with so much as a minor tug.

Yet he doesn't dare. Because this is his penance, how he amends for his sins. To repent by sinking so low into the ditches, that no support is strong enough to draw him to the surface. Alive.

The tears continue to fall. And though, he thinks he imagines it, there comes a stark, almost tender, moment, when Father Kotomine collects them on his finger tips. Fingers wet with grief, hes rubs them clean on the swollen cavity of Kiritsugu's bruised lips before reinstituting his pace.

He finishes on his face, coating Kiritsugu in a veil that is anything but holy. And in cadence to Kirei's footsteps, he'll hear:

**_God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit._**

__

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****

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**Amen.**


End file.
